


Learning to Dance

by AllThoseOtherWorlds



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Ballroom dance, But not enough to tag, Dancing, Fluff, M/M, Vic and Kira and Odo and Sisko and Dax and Miles show up too, dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 04:38:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/935466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllThoseOtherWorlds/pseuds/AllThoseOtherWorlds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Vic Fontaine organizes dance lessons for the senior staff, Julian is disappointed that he has no one with whom to attend. Obviously, Garak has to remedy the situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Invitation at Lunch

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Star Trek or the characters, and you know it.  
> This came partly from my own interest in ballroom dancing, since I was on the ballroom dance team at my high school. It also came from the fact that I ship Garak/Bashir and I got angry that same-sex dancing is still a thing which is not allowed everywhere at competitions. The fic is all light stuff, though - nothing angry.  
> Enjoy!

Julian Bashir scanned the busy replimat, searching for the table he and Garak usually reserved for their weekly lunches. The table was empty, so he took his tray of food and sat down, watching steam rise from his soup as he waited. As usual, his mind was working on at least three different levels. In the back of his consciousness, and being given the least amount of attention, was the research he was conducting back in Sickbay. He was sure nothing fruitful would come of it until he actually got back there, but it never hurt to keep trying. On a more significant level for the moment was the book Garak had lent him, and which they would probably end up discussing today. It was another “classic of Cardassian literature” and he was looking forward to debating some of its finer points with Garak. What he was thinking about at the moment, however, had nothing to do with literature – or, as far as he could tell, with Garak.

He looked up in time to see his Cardassian lunch companion sit down opposite him at the table. He smiled. “Hello, Garak. Held up at the shop?”

“Yes,” came the reply. “I’m afraid there was a last-minute emergency with some ripped seams.”

Julian had no idea whether or not there was even the slightest chance that this was true, but he accepted it anyway. As they both started eating, their conversation turned (as predicted) to the novel they had just read. Although he participated in the ensuing debate, Julian was unsurprised when Garak noticed that he wasn’t giving it his full attention.

“My dear doctor, I’m getting the impression that your mind is elsewhere.” Garak’s voice had an air of concern which, were it aimed at anyone else on the station, would not have seemed so genuine. “Is something bothering you? Not an emergency in Sickbay, I hope.”

He shook his head and set down the spoon. “I’m sorry, Garak,” he apologized. “Apparently Vic is giving dance lessons in the holosuite- old Earth dances, like the Swing or the Waltz. Sisko and Dax are going, since Kasidy’s off the station and Worf is- well, you know, _Worf_. I think Odo and Kira are going to go, too.”

Garak tilted his head inquisitively. “And this is a bad thing?”

“Actually, the lessons sound like a lot of fun.” Julian sighed. “And I know that I can probably find a holographic dance partner, but-”

“But you don’t want to be the only one there without a _real_ dance partner.” Garak finished the sentiment for him. “Doctor, I fail to see why you cannot attend with someone from the station.” He held up a hand to quell Julian’s rising protests. “I understand that you are not currently _involved_ with anyone, but I have been given the impression that old Earth dances do not require the participants to be romantically invested.”

Julian stared at him. “Why do you know anything about Earth _dance practices?_ ” He didn’t really expect an answer, so he was unsurprised when Garak merely smiled obliquely and made a comment about how informative adding darts to dress shirts could be.

In truth, Garak had overheard about the dance lessons while tailoring, and had looked up the rest of the information on his own. Although he generally used tailoring as an excuse for information he had come upon in less _innocuous_ situations, he had to admit that every once in a while it really did turn up something handy. Now, he turned to the good Doctor and put on his best “innocent” smile: the one he knew nobody ever fell for, but which the Doctor, for some reason, seemed to enjoy.

“My own knowledge of human dance practices is, of course, highly limited. I would welcome the opportunity to remedy my lack of ability. Is this lesson limited to the senior staff?”

Much to Garak’s delight, the Doctor looked more than a little uncomfortable. He toyed with his spoon for a while before answering. “Well, um, technically I think he wants to keep it to the senior staff, unless…” He trailed off. Garak waited, giving him some gentle prompting.

“Unless?”

“Unless a member of the senior staff takes someone else.” He frowned at Garak apologetically. “Sorry, Garak. I guess Sisko wanted to make sure that the holosuite didn’t get too crowded.”

“Of course, if you want to take someone with you, you’ll need to take someone who isn’t on the senior staff, I presume.” Garak widened his eyes in mock-realisation. “Unless you were thinking about taking the Chief?”

Julian chuckled. “No, Miles isn’t going, except possibly to point and laugh. And even if he were going, I’m sure Keiko would object to us attending together.” He was sure that Garak had an agenda in this conversation – when didn’t he? – but, as usual, he thought it was best to play along. _It’s more fun that way._

“Well then, I suppose you’ll just have to settle on taking a hologram.” Garak paused for a moment. “That is, of course, unless you would care to invite me to join you?” The casually tossed-out question was accompanied by yet another of Garak’s mysterious-but-charming smiles.

Julian considered it. On the one hand, he knew that several of his colleagues (Kira and Chief O’Brien came to mind) were somewhat less than friendly with Garak. On the other hand, it really wasn’t their business, and Garak would probably be better company than a nonsentient holocharacter. _Why not?_ He asked himself. _I imagine Garak would be an… interesting… dance partner._

“Well, I suppose you could come with me,” he finally said, “but try not to antagonize Kira, or O’Brien, or Sisko, or-”

Garak cut him off smoothly. “I’ll see what I can do. Ah, when exactly _is_ this lesson taking place?”

Julian was sure that Garak already knew the answer (he did) but he answered him anyway. “Tomorrow evening, at twenty-hundred hours, in Vic’s.”

Garak gave Julian a polite little half-nod and a smile. “Well then, I look forward to seeing you there.”

Julian smiled back, and was about to resume their literature discussion when his combadge chirped at him. “Sickbay to Bashir. Ensign Rija broke her arm.”

He stood up, tapping his badge to respond as he did so. “I’m on my way.”

He turned to Garak, ready to apologize, but the Cardassian held up a hand. “I understand, Doctor. Go treat your patients.”

Julian, thanking Garak, hurried off to Sickbay and left him sitting at their lunch table. Each of them contemplated the upcoming dance lessons with an intriguing mix of anticipation and trepidation. Garak, of course, was pleased with himself for his excellent handling of the conversation. Julian was eagerly anticipating the time spent with his friends and colleagues. Both were looking forward to learning something new, but neither was really sure what to expect. Old Earth dancing was far from the preferred pastime of either participant. As such, while they prepared to go about the rest of the day, each of them thought, near-simultaneously: _what have I gotten myself into now?_


	2. Just Arriving

When Julian stepped into Vic’s the next day he was surprised to find himself in a strange room. It was mostly empty, with mirrored sections along the walls. _It must be a different room in the hotel,_ he told himself. _Probably the ballroom or something. Did hotels have those in this time period?_

As he looked around, he noticed that many of his friends seemed to have already arrived. He sighed. Being genetically engineered, he had an excellent sense of time, and yet still managed to get caught up in something at the last instant and arrive a few minutes late. But he was here, and apparently they hadn’t started yet, so he smiled and walked over to join the group. The attendees were pretty much as he’d predicted: Sisko and Dax were chatting, while Jake and Worf watched with the O’Briens; Kira and Odo were also there, talking with Vic and his holographic date and smiling a lot. The only person who was missing was Garak.

The realisation hit him with a stab of anxiety. _Has he decided not to come? Maybe he was just playing games with me. Maybe-_ he cut himself off. Garak would come. Garak was the one who’d manipulated the whole conversation into this little arrangement to begin with. There was probably a good reason for him being late (a reason which would be cloaked in excuses). _Why does it even matter?_ _It’s not like I can’t just participate without him._

He had just reached the group on the other side of the room, however, when the holosuite doors opened and Garak came in. Like everyone else there, he was dressed in the human attire commonly worn in the holoprogram. Of course, being Garak, his outfit was altered in almost undetectable ways to allow a little Cardassian style to show through. Julian waved him over, smiling to himself at the confused and slightly disgruntled expressions around him. Miles was the first to react, hastily leaving his conversation with Keiko and walking over.

“Julian! What is he doing here?” he demanded.

Garak smiled and nodded politely at the Chief. “Ah, how nice to see you, Mister O’Brien. I was told that senior officers could take anyone they wanted as a dance partner.” Cocking his head, he added, “I hope I wasn’t mistaken?”

Julian knew that this was the part where he was supposed to intervene and calm down the situation, and if anyone else was involved he would probably have done so. Of course, seeing as how this was _Miles_ , he decided to wait and see what happened.

He was glad he did. The expression on his friend’s face was priceless. After spluttering for a few moments, Miles turned to Julian with a look of disbelief. “ _You_ invited _him_ to dance with you?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Yes I did.” _Sort of,_ he mentally amended. _I’m pretty sure this was at least partially Garak’s idea._

He’d almost expected his friend to push the issue – Garak had, after all, attempted to kill him while under the influence of experimental drugs – but he just shrugged. “Well, _I’m_ not dancing with him.”

He grinned. “I thought you weren’t dancing with anyone?”

“He’s not.” Vic Fontaine interrupted them smoothly. “But you folks are, so we’d better get started.”

He ushered them all into the centre of the room, and Miles returned to his seat on the sidelines with Jake, Keiko, and Molly. It was at this point that Julian realised he hadn’t actually said a word to Garak so far, due to the Chief’s distracting influence. It was too late now, however, since Vic was once again talking, so he settled for a smile and a slightly awkward half-bow. _Nailed it again,_ he thought wryly. _Of all the things they could have forgotten to genetically engineer into me, why_ social skills?

“Well, ladies and gents, welcome to your dance lessons. I noticed some folks looked a bit down lately, and what better way to cheer up a guy than to dance?” He looked around the room. “Before we start, does anyone have any experience with this sort of thing?”

Dax, of course, stepped forward. “I think Emony took dance lessons on Earth once, to help with her skills as a gymnast.” She frowned. “Not that she was particularly good with rhythm.”

No one else made any sort of motion, which didn’t really surprise Julian. This sort of dancing was still practiced, but had largely become mixed with various other forms from different planets, and Vic wouldn’t know about any of them.

Vic didn’t look surprised, either. “Well, then, I guess we’d best get started.” The woman Julian had seen with him earlier now came up and smiled at the group. Vic took her hand. “This is Cynthia. She’s gonna demonstrate half the move, and I’ll do the other half – you guys have to split up.” He gestured to himself and then to his partner. “Someone needs to lead- usually the stronger or larger person. The other person follows – usually the gal, but hey, whatever works.”

Julian knew that, were this really the 1960’s, gender restraints on dancing would have been more severe. Fortunately, discrimination based on things like gender, race, sexuality, and species were removed when holoprograms were designed. The nature of Vic’s programming meant that he would have no issues with him and Garak dancing together.

He turned to Garak. “So, do you want to lead, or shall I?”

His Cardassian friend gestured politely to him with a half-bow. “Why, my dear Doctor, I am only here at _your_ invitation.”

He fought to urge to make a sarcastic retort, but restrained himself, aware that sarcasm was probably one of the worst responses to Garak’s wordplay; Garak had a knack for ‘accidentally’ missing the concept. “Ah, but that was only a result of your conversational manoeuvring. I think _you’re_ best suited for leading.”

Garak inclined his head with a smile. “As you wish, Doctor.”

With that decided, they watched as the other pairs sorted themselves out. Sisko was leading Dax, who apparently had some minor experience with following, but none with leading. Kira decided to lead Odo despite being physically smaller – privately, Julian thought this had more to do with Kira’s reluctance to follow than any predilection for leading. Within a few moments, all three groups had chosen and Vic began the lesson in earnest.


	3. The Swing

The “Swing” was not a dance Garak could say he would usually have appreciated. It was bouncy and energetic and altogether just a bit too much like root beer. Nevertheless, there was something about the fast, lilting steps that appealed to him. The dance looked so simple on the surface – when Vic and Cynthia had first demonstrated the moves he’d assumed it would be no problem to learn. When they really started, however, he quickly determined that there was much more to the style than met the eye. There were _secrets_ – tiny little motions and applications of force which were nearly invisible to the audience, hidden by the illusion of ease. It appealed to him.

Julian, of course, was enjoying himself immensely. The Swing was the perfect dance for him, with all the enthusiastic turns and pulls, and Garak wondered if perhaps this was part of why he found himself enjoying the dance. Leading the Doctor was a great deal of fun. Because of the human’s long-secreted genetic enhancements, he was marvellous at catching the little movements and signals usually given as leads. This, of course, meant that he had to be giving the dance his utmost attention – it wouldn’t do to _accidentally_ give mixed signals to the good Doctor.

Vic had begun the lesson with a series of motions done individually and repeated by the group. He demonstrated one set for the ‘leaders’ to mimic, and Cynthia demonstrated the other set for the ‘followers’. These parts were rather dull, so it was fortunate that they soon allowed the groups to come together once again and practice in couples. This repeated itself several times, with Vic and Cynthia wandering between the couples, correcting their mistakes and observing their progress.

“Hey, Lizardman!” Vic called as he strode over to them. “Your hand should be up here.” He moved the offending limb up to just below Julian’s shoulder. “That’s better. It’ll be easier for him to get your leads now, I bet.”

He smiled at them and headed away, off to show Odo how to get out of a complex turn _without_ shapeshifting. Garak watched them out of the corner of his eye for a moment before returning his full attention to his posture with Doctor Bashir.

The frame was rather interesting, really. He was careful to keep his hands in their correct positions – one just below Julian’s shoulder just as Vic had requested, and the other lightly touching his hand to pull and guide him through the moves. The whole process of leading the dance was remarkably like conversing – all those wonderful conversations they had from week to week shared an astonishing similarity with the ebb and flow of the dance, and the gentle manoeuvrings like those which had gotten him here to begin with. On the whole, he had to say that the entire outing was going remarkably well. The good thing about dancing was that he didn’t need to converse with anyone but the Doctor- there were times, after all, when he didn’t feel like putting on a polite façade for O’Brien or Sisko.

It wasn’t long before they had learned a sizeable number of moves, and all that was left was to practice them. Vic, who had somehow acquired a microphone and a band (really, just _how_ much control did that man have over the computer system?), began to perform some music for them as they danced. Naturally, it wasn’t long before he and the good Doctor had struck up a conversation – words muttered between moves.

“Well, Garak,” Bashir said as he pulled out into a spin. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Why of course, my dear Doctor,” he replied several beats later. “Although I must admit that the music and technique is somewhat more… spirited… than what I’m used to.”

“Yes, I suppose Cardassian dancing would be rather stiff and ‘proper’”

“It is, Doctor, it is.” Garak smiled at Julian as their eyes met after a spin. “But it does have its merits. We really should discuss it one day over lunch.”

The Doctor looked at him seriously as they shifted to a side-by-side move. “Garak, why _did_ you organize this?”

He made a (carefully practiced) dismissive sound. “Why, Doctor, I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean. If I recall, these lessons were Vic’s doing.”

He was rewarded with a sarcastic eye roll. _How delightful._ “I don’t mean the _lessons_ , Garak. We both know you played our conversation like puppet strings until I asked you here.” He executed a sharp underarm turn and was once again facing his partner. “Why?”

“Doctor, I resent the implications.” Garak grinned. “But I fail to see why I can’t simply enjoy the companionship of a good friend. Perhaps I simply enjoy spending time with you.”

And now Julian’s serious expression melted into a charming little smile. “I like spending time with you, too.”

“Hey, fellas?”

It was only as they heard Vic’s voice that they realised the music had stopped playing. The hologram was watching them with an amused expression, and the other dancers had, apparently, finished with their practice. Garak was impressed. If Julian’s genetically enhanced senses hadn’t realised that the music had stopped, he must have been just as engrossed in their conversation as Garak himself had been.

But the others were still watching them, and Vic was close to laughing now, so they sheepishly broke the frame and turned to face him. Julian muttered something that sounded like an apology, but Garak decided to remain silent. Vic just smiled knowingly at them and announced that they were done for the day.

“If you two are done swingin’, how ‘bout we move on to the Foxtrot – same time tomorrow?”


	4. The Foxtrot

The following day was mostly uneventful, but it did leave Julian – and the others – plenty of time to reflect on the previous night’s dance lesson. He decided that it was surprisingly easy to ignore the raised-eyebrow looks Jadzia was sending his way whenever their eyes met. He had enjoyed himself, and he had enjoyed Garak’s company. The others could make of that what they would.

What was more confusing was his own reaction to the dancing. It wasn’t like him to lose track of his surroundings like that, even when he was enjoying himself – his enhanced genetics usually didn’t allow for such complete absorption in something. He could only recall a few instances in which something similar had happened – during a surgery, for example, or sometimes while studying intensely back at the academy. But it was one thing to narrow your focus if there was a life on the line, or a test the next day; It was quite another to become completely absorbed in Garak’s dance leads.

He discovered that evening, however, that the Foxtrot required a significant portion of his focus even without Garak. He winced as Vic repositioned his neck once again and caught Garak’s amused expression out of the corner of his eye.

“And you’ve gotta arch your back a bit more,” Cynthia corrected him from the other side. “Like this.”

Julian mimicked the position until they appeared to be satisfied and let him be to practice the moves Vic had shown them – a graceful series of movements with a smoothly varied pacing (for the first ten minutes Vic had to count for them – slow, slow, _quick, quick,_ slow). As they did so, he caught a few words muttered in his direction from Garak.

“Still enjoying yourself, Doctor?”

He wanted to look at Garak as he replied, but reminded himself to hold the oddly tilted neck position. “Let’s just say that this isn’t the most _pleasant_ of dances.”

“Ah, but Doctor,” Garak chided him teasingly, “You’re just not catching the subtleties of the dance!” And then, before he had time to react, he felt a shift in the leads Garak threw him. There was the tug on the arm that sent him into the move, but didn’t this push on the shoulder lead him into something completely different? Garak had led both moves correctly before – he couldn’t be mixing up the leads.

He only had a matter of seconds to choose which lead to follow. Instinctively, he almost followed the pull on his arm; it was the more decisive of the two. But this was _Garak,_ of all people. With him, there was almost always something below the surface. Changing his mind at the last minute, he followed the softer force on his shoulder.

“Oh, very good, Doctor!” Garak exclaimed. “But what do you make of this?”

And now they were off again, spinning around the floor with the others. Garak played several ‘games’ with Julian as they danced – gently softening the leads to see how much he could really detect; leading one move before switching to another one at the last second; or dancing in patterns and then slackening the leads to see if Julian could figure out what came next. Julian, of course, was never allowed to know the “rules” of these games beforehand, but he didn’t mind: figuring it out as they went along was far more interesting.

Vic and Cynthia interrupted their games every once and a while, stopping them to correct some aspect of the dancing. After what Julian figured was about twelve minutes and thirty-two seconds Vic stopped everyone, preparing to teach them a new move. Seeing as how they had already learned quite a few moves in the first half-hour of the class, he was very curious to see what they would be learning next.

“Okay, folks,” Vic said, looking around at the assembled couples. “You’re all doing pretty well with the Foxtrot. How ‘bout we try a dip?”

As he and Cynthia demonstrated the move, the others began talking amongst themselves. Finally, Kira said. “Well, that doesn’t look too hard.”

Vic turned to her. “It’s not, really. Just remember to make it as smooth as possible. The follower should be doing most of the work keeping herself or himself up, but the leader should be providing balance and support in case something does happen.”

Jadzia grinned at Sisko. “My balance isn’t _quite_ as good as Emony’s, but I don’t think you’ll have to worry about me falling.”

“Whatever you say, Old Man.” Sisko replied with a smile before turning back to Vic. “When can we start?”

Even though he knew that his sense of balance was certainly enough to keep himself from falling, Julian felt as though he were participating in one of those “trust fall” games that Starfleet occasionally utilized during its training workshop. What surprised him, however, was the fact that he felt he _did_ trust Garak to keep him steady if he lost his balance.

Garak wasn’t really the type of person anyone placed much trust in – over time, people on the station had been forced to utilize his particular talents for various things, but he knew that very few people would actually claim to trust the man. Garak himself discouraged the good faith of other people- once he had even complimented Julian for his mistrust. There were plenty of reasons not to believe in Garak: he _was_ a Cardassian ex-spy who lied about nearly every aspect of his past.

_So why do I trust him now?_

Despite the logical arguments to the contrary, Julian knew as he dipped into the backbend and felt Garak’s hands supporting him that he was safe. As much as people were right to question the Cardassian’s personal history and professional motives, his friendship had never seemed anything but sincere. He may have no qualms about lying or overly elaborate Cardassian wordplay, but his sentiments were surprisingly consistent if one could cut through the misdirection. Julian often felt, however, that he was the only one on the station who had bothered to cut through that misdirection out of curiosity rather than suspicion. _Perhaps that’s why he always seems genuinely happy to see me, rather than putting up some of the polite mask he uses on the others from time to time._

He felt his balance wobble slightly – definite, but not enough to seriously compromise his positioning. Still, he smiled to himself as he felt the grip on his back tighten and knew Garak would try to keep him safe if he fell.


	5. Encore

The following day’s conversations were focused primarily on the dance lessons of the night before. Everyone seemed to have enjoyed themselves, thus validating Vic’s original intent for the classes. He claimed he wasn’t planning on doing any more, but after several requests from Dax smiled said he’d consider it. Everyone seemed to have something different to say about the experience: Kira said that Odo was, unsurprisingly, very easy to lead. Sisko, on the other hand, found Dax took control over the dance from him at times – just as unsurprisingly. Even the O’Briens seemed to have had a good time; Molly had taken it upon herself to teach her father how to dance, much to his dismay.

For his own part, Julian was looking forward to discussing the matter with Garak over lunch. They usually only had lunch together once a week, but given the circumstances they had agreed to make an exception.

“So, what did you think?” Julian finally asked, after they had gone on a tangential discussion of Federation values in Cardassian novels and used up half his lunch time. “Were the dance lessons enjoyable?”

“Why of course, Doctor!” Garak paused for a beat, dropping his more enthusiastic debating voice down into a softer conversational tone reserved primarily for Julian. “Your dancing is wonderful. As, I assure you, was your company.”

Julian sighed, smiling. “Is that what this is about? You pulled the strings on this thing as soon as you heard about it, didn’t you? It was your idea that we attend in the first place.”

Garak looked taken aback. “Doctor, if I recall it was _you_ who brought up the topic with your dismal mood. And it was Vic Fontaine who came up with the idea to begin with.”

Although still not convinced, Julian decided to change his tack. “Garak, you don’t need to organize something like this just to get my attention. You could just _ask_ me to spend time with you.”

“Well, Doctor, if you insist.” Garak’s face settled itself into an expression that somehow combined charm and mischief. _I really need to figure out how he does that._ “Would you care to take dinner with me?”

Julian’s surprise cost him a few seconds before he answered. Garak only rarely asked him for his company, generally preferring to simply break into his quarters or holosuite program. An actual polite invitation was almost unprecedented – in a good way. He covered his momentary shock with a smile and replied, “I don’t see why not. Do you mean at Quarks, or…?” He trailed off.

“Doctor, you know how I feel about Quarks.” Garak paused to cast a frown in the direction of the Ferengi’s bar. “I think we can do better than crowded, noisy, and sloppy. Actually, I was thinking we could dine in my quarters instead.” He glanced questioningly at Julian. “That is, _if_ you have no objections”

“Not at all. I’d be delighted to see what you have in mind.” As he paused for breath, Julian was interrupted by the rude beeping of his combadge. He tapped it, but got – and expected – no reply. Standing, he turned to Garak. “My time’s up. I’ve got to get back to sickbay.” He turned to go, then paused. “When would you like to meet for dinner?”

Garak seemed to consider the question, although Julian suspected he’d had the answer prepared for some time now and was merely putting on a show for the sake of practice and amusement. “How does tomorrow night sound, Doctor? At, say, 1730 hours?”

Julian’s usual response in such matters was something similar to ‘yes’ or ‘sure’, but he stopped himself at the last moment. _I should make certain,_ he thought, _before I make a fool of myself._ After pausing to find a response, he looked (meaningfully, he hoped) at Garak. “It’s a date.” _The man used to be an interrogator,_ he told himself. _He can catch a simple multilayered response._

He wasn’t disappointed. Garak nodded and turned a bright smile in his direction. “Why, Doctor, I’m so glad we agree.” He held the gaze a moment longer before gesturing down the promenade. “I do believe your sickbay needs you now, Doctor.”

“Oh, ah, yes. Of course.” Julian managed articulately, starting down the promenade. “Have a nice day, Garak.”

“I believe I shall, Doctor,” Garak smiled to himself as he watched him go. “I believe I shall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated. If you liked it, I'd love to know why. If you didn't like it, I'd still love to know why (just try to be more constructive than hateful).


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